Love, honour and.. obey?‏

Madness is running riot. This country has 
turned into a massive blob of romantic folly.
This must be a tough time for all those

allergic to weddings, marriages and all the lot.  
Interestingly enough, coveted monarchists or
last-stage
romantics are discovered when and where 
you least expect. But is it romance or just a 
publicity stunt? Who cares, as long as we have
a day off.  

Obey.. Interesting word, almost never used in 
wedding vows these days. I can't possibly imagine any of my friends obeying. Although it would be
easier, wouldn't it? Instead of spending hours and hours arguing and compromising, all that would be 
left to say would be 'yes, darling, as you wish'. And then bang the gardener or the pool boy in order 
to withstand yet another day of obedience. Good plan? Bad plan? We shall never find out.

There can hardly be a worse wedding situation than an event with the entire globe watching.. Add to
that that the whole marriage will be impossibly public.. And yet.. Who cares?? What goes own between 
two people (or three or four, as it happens) is nobody's business. If your own life is boring, read a book, 
do some charity work, don't stick your nose in others' laundry baskets! 

No, I haven't been drinking. Just overnauseous by sticky-sweetness nonsense. Time to go home.
PS
Once home, I found The Man with Union Flag bunting for the living room and a whole day of non-stop
niceness.. Maybe I should stop complaining..

Mantenetami in due, che uno non basta

I know, shouldn't post when angry. But I need to vent... AAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!

I could punch, kick, roll on the floor shouting.

Instead, I had a revolting cream egg and a packet of Maltisers.

Why can't life behave??

Una questione privata

Dating in the age of information overload can be tricky. What is appropriate to share? When does nosing about become plain stalking? Where is the line between being reserved and stand-offish? How to predict when a written statement (even if just a few characters long) is going to come back and bite you in the butt? And, BTW, in certain circumstances, wouldn't we be better off blissfully ignorant?

Some time ago, American Friend had a Facebook squabble with a guy she was dating. She was accused of having too strong a presence on his page, of being comment-trigger happy, too enthusiastic.. well, basically of being her usual lively, curious self. She took the remark with a raised eyebrow, and moved on, keeping a watchful eye on her typing pinkies. Regardless of social networks, things unfolded between them at their own rate and, after not too long, they decided to pull the plug on the relationship. All was forgotten until last week, when she decided to have a wander on her now ex's profile.. Bad plan. His new girlfriend was all over his page, even in his profile photo. Can you imagine the wave of rage? Not only he had moved on (but that's another story), the whole privacy palaver was just a red herring. The truth was much deeper. Because the guy she was reading about on Facebook was completely different from the one she went out with. Or at least the one he wanted her to believe she was dating.

If you start creating different versions of yourself to maximise the chances of a successful relationship, it is key to keep all your personalities well compartmentalised. To remember what hat you are wearing with whom (partners, friends, family, colleagues). And what to post where. Because the most likely scenario is that at some point the sheer exhaustion of trying to be somebody else starts taking its toll, and either mistakes creep up or you just can't be bothered anymore. Or you end up with someone who wants to be your everything but doesn't fancy going out with an army of fighting egos.

Of course, we are not the same self all the time. We wear masks to suit the different roles we need to take on. Pirandello said it much better than I ever could: we are one, no one and a hundred thousand.

So, what to do? Be your odd self, with small chances of going out with the person of your dreams? Or pretend to be what your object of desire is looking for, moulding your wants, needs and aspirations to theirs, in your pursuit of happiness? Male Friend #1 once told me that in his difficult times he tries and resort to just being himself, taking full responsibilities for the outcomes. But then, I wonder, how do you know you are not just wearing another mask?

Just because

I am in a sunny mood.

Gimme, gimme, gimme

So, say your birthday is coming up, and you could pick ANY presents, what would you choose? (World peace and the end of famine don't count)

Hmmmm.. Difficult question.. At least for an indecisive like me, who hates to even pick wine and food off a restaurant menu.

To start, a couple of extra hours, all to myself, every day. To run, read, catch up on the news, watch a film. Or just sleep. (What is it with this feeling constantly sleep-deprived?)

Maybe a long weekend in Paris, with extra cash to be spent Chez Chanel.

A huge party on the beach.
A week with Muffin Tops.
A private screening of my favourite films.
Calorie-free chocolate.
Bags.. and shoes. No discrimination.
Ooohhh, yes, I know: a dog! A Westie, named Dr Watson, who would follow me everywhere.

Or even just dinner and drinks with a distant friend I don't get to see much these days.

Truth is, I don't want anything at all. Just a little peace, a bit of love and.. the end of this shifting phase. Before it all gets too boring. And the dog. Yes, most certainly the dog. Pleaseeeee.
PS
Just in case anybody out there is in desperate need of real present suggestions, I would love something that starts with 'i' and ends in 'Pad'.

Una pausa

That's not my name

Readers of a prudish disposition, look away now (which is way this post is likely to be crawling with typos: I have to write with my eyes shut).

Single Friend #1's dating misadventures just got even more tragicomical. The latest addition to the club is a young, dark-eyed artisto, with an irresistible smile on his face and too much dope in his system. And a flamboyant sex life. An inconsistent oscillation between interminable nights of passion and cigarette-filled afternoons of ennui, spent staring at the ceiling in silence. The uncertainty, not knowing how each encounter would end, made him even more attractive in the eye of the fool, who kept going back to his tiny, smokey flat.

Until that evening. When, after a considerable amount of cheap wine, in the midst of love-making, he ran his fingers through her hair and, in a single sigh, called her "Debbie". Not SF#1's name. Being stared at by eyes wide open in shock and surprise, he tried to quickly back-pedal and mumble some feeble explanation ("This other girl, no, I mean, my ex.. No, not what you think, not now, I mean, right now, clearly not, it is just the two of us in this bed, right? Unless you would be interested.. Ouch! Hey, stop it! You can do some permanent damage there..").

Which brings us back to the theme of nudity, and, in particular, to the question: how do you retreat with dignity when scantily clad? Especially if gravity, babies, pies and too-little-time-to-exercise start taking their toll on your slightly squidgy self? Can you take the moral high-ground while trying to cover your high, middle and lower grounds? And how can you expect a man to listen to any heated accusations when he is clearly mesmerised by the naked boobs bouncing in anger in front of him? Not a chance.

SF#1 opted for the silence treatment and a swift disappearance. Unfortunately she also ended up leaving behind some items of clothing she will never see again. Who knows, maybe they will fit Debbie..

How does it feel?

Early (at least for me) morning, dragging my sleepy self out of the house with a decorous amount of clothing on and clean teeth to catch the train to work. General zombieland: the caffeine junkie, the uncontrollable cougher, the iPad-cyborg, the smelly farter. Until I raise my eyes from the boring scientific literature I insist on dragging around in the vain hope of catching up on work, and I see him. We all see him. An incredibly good-looking man in his late 30s walks down the platform as if it was a catwalk. With an understated smile, he gets on the train and finds a seat while we are all still staring at him.
Which begs the question: how does it feel to be so incredibly overendowed in the shallow department of external appearance? Are freebies the norm? Do admirers throw themselves at you? Is there a queue outside your front door? I am intrigued. Surely it can't be a disadvantage. Never heard anybody complaining for being too attractive (and, if you are thinking about it, I wouldn't risk my reaction. Just drop it). But how far can it be pushed? Does the so-famous 'inner beauty' ever come into play?

A friend of mine, a very intelligent and funny man who has never looked like a Greek statue or oil painting, had, sods' law, a very handsome brother. As a young university student and brainy overachiever, he could easily spark a conversation with the ladies. He also managed, in most cases, to build solid friendships, which he kept on working on in the hope of getting laid. His commitment to his 'mind appeal' was compelling: he read the whole Recherche du temps perdu, watched never-ending indie films, perfected his gentleman manners. All of this would eventually get the girl through his front door, with a high chance of success. Unless.. Unless his brother decided to show up. Like in a David Lynch film, the same sequence of events kept repeating itself again and again. The good-looking brother would walk into the room, introduce himself to the young lady, smile, offer her a cigarette, start talking about himself, and Proust, Wenders and Kieslowski were immediately forgotten.

Are we all that shallow? Can't we see what hides behind a pretty face? We would like to think that, now that we are a little older, we look at things differently, right? Except.. Incredibly Good Looking Guy has just flashed his piercing blue eyes in my direction and I have almost dropped my BBerry.. Life is incredibly unfair..
PS
This is probably immature, but can I at least hope he is stupid?